


The Man Breaker

by dreamsofspike



Category: How I Met Your Mother
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-04
Updated: 2010-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-11 11:12:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/pseuds/dreamsofspike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barney told his friends about the night he spent with Rhonda the Man-Maker -- but what he told them was far from the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man Breaker

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: implied rape, violence

Barney flinched as Greg pinned him against the wall of the house, one hand around his throat.

"You're not gonna say a word about this... are you, Stinson?"

"N-no," Barney whispered, blinking back tears of shame. "Who would I tell?"

"No one, that's who." Greg shook him. "You talk... and I'll kill you."

He released the boy with a shove into the wall, then punched him in the stomach with enough force to drop him to his knees on the ground. Greg sauntered off to his car, unconcerned with the devastated boy he'd left on Rhonda the man-maker's porch.

She would sleep with anyone; she made the perfect cover story for why little Barney Stinson had been out all night.

Once Greg was gone, Barney tried to rise, but let out a sharp cry of pain and collapsed again, hurt too badly to get to his feet. He huddled against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest, trembling in the early morning chill. The sky was just beginning to grow light along the horizon, but he had no way of getting home, no way of getting to any help.

Fortunately, help came to him.

"Oh, my God... are you okay?"

Barney was in shock, shaking violently, as the woman who had just opened her front door crouched in front of him. He looked up at her through dazed eyes, shaking his head slowly in confusion.

"Come here, let me help you," she murmured, gently snaking an arm around his shoulders, under his arms. "Let's get you up, sweetie."

He struggled to his feet, obeying on sheer instinct, though he could barely process what was happening.

"Come on."

She softly encouraged him into her first floor bedroom, where she helped him to sit on the edge of the bed, and then to lie down. She gasped when she saw the back of his bloodied jeans, the way he cringed when she carefully sat on the edge of the bed.

"Don't," he whispered, eyes closed, shaking his head. "Please don't..."

"It's okay," soothed him, running gentle fingers through his hair. "It's all right, sweetheart." She rose, reaching for the phone on her nightstand. "I'll call for help..."

"No!" he cried out, his voice trembling with panic as he reached out a weak hand to grasp her wrist. "No, don't... don't call anyone." He was quiet for a moment, looking down as he added, "No one can... can know..."

Rhonda frowned, sitting down again, one hand in his hair, the other running slowly up and down his bruised arm. His clothes were ripped and bloodied, his face battered and bruised, his hair a ragged mess as if someone had tried to give him a haircut with a pocketknife.

He needed help -- but she couldn't force him to accept it.

He'd been violated enough for one lifetime.

"Please," he whispered, despondent. "Please don't call anyone... I can't tell anyone, please..."

"Shhh," she murmured. "I won't. That has to be your choice, sweetie. But will you let _me_ help you? Clean you up a little?"

He just clung to her hand tightly, his slight frame shaking with the effort of repressing his sobs. Finally he nodded, his eyes closed, a convulsive swallow visible in his throat.

She was as gentle and respectful as possible as she helped him get undressed and inspected his injuries, bandaging his injuries.

Once that task was finished, she slid the blankets out from under him so that he was lying on the clean sheet beneath them, then laid a clean, soft blanket over him.

"I'll let you get some rest..."

"Please..." he whispered. "D-don't... don't leave me... please? I... I can't be... alone right now... please..."

Her eyes welled with tears. "I won't. It's all right," she assured him.

He relaxed a little, clearly relieved, but he was still trembling so hard that his teeth were chattering.

"I'm... s-so cold," he whispered.

She ran gentle fingertips across his bruised cheek, noting how strikingly beautiful the boy really was. She hesitated, unwilling to make him feel unsafe.

"Do you want me to lie here with you?" she offered softly. "Help keep you warm?"

He hesitated, then nodded. Rhonda carefully lay down on the bed facing him, pulling the blanket over both of them before wrapping a cautious arm around his trembling shoulders, her other hand gently stroking his cheek.

"It's all right," she murmured into his ear, drawing him into a comforting embrace. "It's okay... everything's going to be all right..."


End file.
